The Same
by ShadowMist
Summary: Just a little Aya-chan pov.


Title: The Same  
  
Author: ShadowMist  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
Warnings: Weird, very very weird and angst. Aya-chan's pov.  
  
Author Notes: ["blah"] = words spoken outside Aya-chan's world  
  
::blah:: = Aya-chan "speaking"  
  
"blah" = Aya-chan "yelling"  
  
  
  
The Same  
  
  
  
The girl looks in the mirror and stops. The same. Always the same. Though perhaps her skin has grown paler, her hair a little longer than she remembers and she is almost sure she used to weigh a bit more. Didn't she? But still she looks the same. Her plum colored hair hangs in its usual braids down either side of her face, her brown eyes stare back at her questioningly. The same. Always the same.  
  
["How are you today, imouto-chan? I brought you some new flowers."]  
  
She looks up, eyes searching the shadows that make up her world. That have always made up her world. That voice. Where is that voice coming from? Why can she never get away from it? Why won't it stop?  
  
::Go away:: she cries to it.  
  
It frightens her. The voice is quiet, soft and gentle. But where is it coming from? There is no one else here with her. There never has been. But every once in a while... the voice comes. There is really no reason to fear it, except perhaps for the fact that she can't see the speaker, only hear the disembodied voice floating out to touch her from the shadows.  
  
She looks around. Her world is made up of the chair she sat at, the bed to one side of her and the vanity with its mirror always tilted at just the right angle to reflect her face back at herself. That is all: just the chair, the bed, the vanity, and her. And shadows all around. Nothing beyond. She doesn't think there are walls. She has never seen them. But then again, she has never moved from the seat where she now sits. Did she move, would it vanish? Would she if she could no longer see herself in the mirror? Is that what had happened to the rest of the world. Had she moved away from it and it had vanished when it was no longer in her sight?  
  
The voice speaks. The shadows tremble. She searches for it. Her eyes fall on the bed. A single strand of gold is its occupant. Her eyes shy away from it quickly. There is something about that earring that disturbs her. Why does she never wear it? Where is its mate? Why does it always lie in the bed instead of her? She will not think of that. She looks back at the mirror. Brown eyes, plum hair. She is the same. No change. Not here. Not without thought. Pale skin and the bed with its golden earring behind her. Just her, the bed, the vanity, the chair and the earring.  
  
["It's raining outside. I remember when you used to run outside whenever it began to rain. Always running around in circles and laughing as you got soaked. I remember that one time I went after you, to bring you in out of it, but slipped and fell in the mud puddle. Do you remember that, Aya- chan?"]  
  
.and the voice. ::Go away.:: The voice is soft now, calm. But she knows its routine. Always the voice is soft and soothing, calling to her gently, creating soft flashes of light in the shadows that she can almost make out, images like dreams she can almost touch. But then it changes. The voice becomes urgent, harsh, choked; demanding. The flashes of color become too intense, too bright, too clear. The voice chokes and then becomes strangled with tears. ::Go away. I don't want to hear you. Please don't cry. Don't cry. Go away.:: She feels as if some unseen person grabs hold of her, a weight presses to her shoulder, soft strands of silk touching her cheek.  
  
["Wake up, wake up!"]  
  
The voice implores. The shoulder of her shirt, where she can feel the small weight and feel the soft breath, becomes wet but she cannot see why.  
  
["Wake up, please imouto. Please. I can't stand it anymore. Please wake up. I want to see you again. Please."]  
  
The shadows swirl and flash with color, with light, agitated motion making her stomach twist and her head hurt.  
  
["Wake up, wake up. Please."]  
  
"Go away. Go away. Please, go away!" The golden earring on her bed begins to shine and she can almost see a ghost of its mate beside it. It seems to hang from an ear as pale as her own.  
  
["Wake up!"]  
  
From the shadows spring faces, known and dear to her though she cannot place names to them, only feelings of love and comfort. They come closer and closer, almost touching her, becoming clearer as the voice speaks. She begins to tremble. ::No. No.::  
  
The faces are suddenly eclipsed by an explosion, engulfed by flame, obscured by rocks and pieces of her home falling from the sky.  
  
She screams, the shadows trembling, and forces herself to look back into the mirror, only the mirror. Forces herself to see the image she has always seen, will always see: pale skin, plum hair, brown eyes.  
  
The words stop. The voice too choked by sobs to let set them loose any longer and she is grateful to them even as the weight presses into her shoulder more heavily. Without taking her eyes from the mirror she reaches out. Her arms wrap around what could be a body but she cannot tell for she cannot see it. Her eyes are focused on the mirror but even had they not been, the shadows would have hidden the shape from her. So she keeps them focused where they have always been and simply hugs the form to her. She realized the weight on her shoulder is someone's head, perhaps the voice's. She doesn't know. Has never know.  
  
She presses it closer, under her chin where if it speaks again her own body will muffle it; but she knows he wont. After the shouts there are tears, then only sobs. Soon the sobs will fade away to nothing and the silence will return. The usual silence of her world. The shadows will settle down, no more disturbing flashes of light which show her images she cannot understand. The sobs quiet. Fade. She looks in her mirror. Her eyes are brown, her hair plum colored. Her braids hang to either side of her, one slightly mused but the weight is gone from her shoulder. She undoes then remakes the braid. Perfect, the two match again. She looks in the mirror. On the bed behind her there is only one stand of gold. Normal. Everything as usual. Everything the same. She is the same.  
  
  
  
Owari  
  
_________  
  
12/12/01  
  
ShadowMist  
  
Uhm, okay. I warned ya it was weird. Please review. 


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